


Catnip

by Turandot (LostOzian)



Series: P5 Would Be a Better Game if More Days Were Story-Locked So That the Phantom Thieves Could All Cuddle [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Altered Mental States, Character Study, Fluffy, Humor, Jealousy, Mementos is weird, Mild content warnings for negative self-talk, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Sort of? - Freeform, Team Bonding, To address the jealousy, You can think of it as romantic polythieves if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23287225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostOzian/pseuds/Turandot
Summary: A strange shadow in Mementos inflicts a "charmed" effect on most of the Phantom Thieves. It's a stoke of luck that Akira, not the enemy, becomes the target of the charm... but that's where his luck runs out, because Akira has NO idea how to handle six possessively, aggressively, frantically cuddly friends.It's going to be a rough four hours/two weeks.
Relationships: Persona 5 Protagonist/Everyone
Series: P5 Would Be a Better Game if More Days Were Story-Locked So That the Phantom Thieves Could All Cuddle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819492
Comments: 30
Kudos: 412





	1. If you don't behave back there, I will turn this cat right around!

Akira really had to stop assuming he knew everything about Mementos.  
  
Then again, understanding that he didn’t know everything about Mementos wouldn’t have exactly saved them.  
  
The Shadow had been giving them trouble. It had resistances like one of the rare treasure demons, so they had to just chip away at it while it hurled ailment attacks at them, weird pink pulses of light that probably did something annoying, like induce sleep or confusion. None of them had connected so far, so Akira had judged this fight to be a costly game of beat-your-head-against-a-wall.  
  
They had it staggering, so close to death, when it pulled back all the energy it could muster for a final attack. Another _burst_ of pink energy swirled in a great fan around the entire battlefield. Akira saw Morgana duck while he leapt high, twisting his knife into his hand so he could plunge it into the Shadow’s body. It dissolved into black mist, and Akira looked around to his teammates, staggering a bit.  
  
“Hey—everyone okay?” he called. “Sound off!”  
  
Akira looked to Makoto first. Reliable, reasonable Makoto, she’d either give him an ‘all clear’ or a quick run-down of what hurt and how badly. But when he locked eyes with her, her expression looked… strange. He had never seen her smile like that before. He’d seen proud grins over excellent grades, gracious thank-yous after a thoughtful gift, shocked giggles when she played an arcade game and lost too fast. Now, she smiled, but with a hazy look in her eyes. She looked like she was staring at something vast and beautiful that held her entire focus.  
  
She was staring at Akira.  
  
“Queen?” he tried.  
  
The smile got a little wider. “Yes?”  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing,” she sighed. “Absolutely nothing.”  
  
Akira wanted to scrutinize her for more symptoms, but behind her, Necronomicon floated low enough for its tentacles to deposit Futaba on the ground. “Oracle, what’s up?”  
  
“Jokeeeeer, you were so cool!” Futaba cheered, practically skipping her way toward him. She reached close enough to wrap him up in a hug, the top of her head neatly tucked under his chin.  
  
“Okay? Thanks?” Akira knew his self-cognition could give him flair in battle, but that last strike didn’t feel cooler than usual. Before he could think of anything else to say, something heavy collided with his back, and another set of arms wrapped around him. “Wait—Skull?”  
  
Ryuji didn’t answer, but he did lean his head on Akira’s shoulder, enough that the shock of bleached hair entered the corner of Akira’s vision. And in short order, Haru darted in to cling to Akira’s left arm. A moment later, Ann stole his right. Makoto, still with that unfamiliar happy expression, drew close enough to cradle Akira’s face in her hands. It kind of gave him a shiver.  
  
“What do you all think you’re doing?” Morgana’s voice cut through the hugs. “You’re just leaving me to collect the loot, you know! And we shouldn’t waste time in an unsafe—Joker?!”  
  
In the middle of Morgana’s lecture, Yusuke had dropped to his knees and pulled Akira’s leg out from under him. He toppled to the cognitive-concrete floor, but for some reason, his teammates failed to give a shit and fell with him.  
  
“I’m okay!” Akira answered Morgana. “But—guys, he’s right, we can hug in the real world!”  
  
“I don’t wanna wait,” Ann complained. She still had most of a grip on Akira’s arm and snuggled it like a favorite teddy bear. At the other end, Yusuke held Akira’s ankle aloft, examining it with the same focus and satisfaction Akira had seen him lavish on a new blade or a fresh brush.  
  
Behind him, Ryuji griped, “Kinda trapped back here,” before he heaved Akira back to a sitting position and nearly catapulting Futaba off of him in the process. “There we go!" Then he snuggled back in by Akira’s shoulder.  
  
Akira struggled to raise his head up enough to make confused eye contact with Morgana. The totally-not-a-cat had a frustrated pinch between his massive eyes. “Could this be the status effect? You and I were the only ones the Shadow didn’t hit with its final attack.”  
  
Well, only one thing to do when exploring weird status effects. Akira tugged his arm free from Ann and patted Futaba on the head. “Hey, Oracle? I need some scans.”  
  
In the gloom of Mementos, Akira could still see an excited flush on Futaba’s cheeks. Either that, or her giant red goggles reflected down on her face. “Yes! Anything!”  
  
“Scan everyone else for active status effects.”  
  
Futaba sat herself down across Akira’s legs—well, one leg, Yusuke was still appreciating the construction of Akira’s other leg up-close—and started pushing buttons on her mask.  
  
“Hey, give that back!” Ann reached again for Akira’s hand, but before she could catch it, Makoto took hold. She pulled it up to her own face and let the back of his hand run on her cheek. “ _Queen!_ ”  
  
Beside him, Haru spoke up, “Excuse me, but may I hug you?” And without waiting for a reply, she moved to push Futaba out of her lap-seat.  
  
“Noir—wait, Noir! Not yet!” Akira protested.  
  
She froze, and gave Akira a smile. That one he had seen before—the one she gave to Shadows begging for their lives. “Alright then. In a minute!”  
  
Since Haru had made a break for a hug, Ann scooted around to claim the abandoned arm, hugging it with all her might. Somewhere to the side, Morgana cleared his throat. “You know, Panther, that behavior doesn’t look appropriate for a noble lady…”  
  
But, Ann ignored him. At his feet, Yusuke shifted closer, edging further up Akira’s leg—his artist’s touch on the back of his knee nearly made Akira shiver like Makoto’s touch on his face, what was _with_ that?!—which forced Akira to tilt backwards. Ryuji swore as Akira’s weight crushed him, but he pushed right back, leaving Akira in an ever-narrowing jackknife pose that grew more uncomfortable by the second.  
  
“Any luck, Oracle?” Akira begged.  
  
“Ah—yeah, I got it!” Futaba exclaimed. “This is a ‘charmed’ effect!”  
  
“Don’t you mean, ‘brainwashed?’” Morgana asked.  
  
“Nope, charmed!” Futaba turned her face up to Akira. “Hey, are you proud of me? I diagnosed a new status condition!”  
  
Akira couldn’t answer her, because Haru had decided that her minute was up. She heaved Futaba out of Akira’s lap like the young girl was a sack of fertilizer and then slipped her hands around Akira’s chest, leaning in for a tight embrace. Akira smelled her fresh rose perfume, dizzying and lovely…  
  
“Oracle, wait—one more,” Akira gasped. “How do you cure it?!”  
  
“Uh…” Futaba already sounded quieter, less happy, deposited outside of the massive cuddle pile. “Let me…”  
  
“We could try a Relax Gel?” Morgana suggested. Akira twisted his Makoto-captured hand into a thumbs up for Morgana, who took that as permission to stick his paws into the tangle of hugs to pickpocket the item from Joker’s coat.  
  
He had to think on which of his friends was causing the most problem right now. Probably… “Hit Skull!”  
  
“Yeah?” Ryuji responded instantly, while Morgana reached up to slap some Relax Gel against the side of his head. “Ugh—damn cat, the hell?!”  
  
“Are you coming back to your senses?” Morgana asked sharply.  
  
“Senses, what are you talking about?”  
  
A dense pit of worry settled in Akira’s stomach. “Noir—Noir, can you use an Energy Drop on yourself?”  
  
Close to his ear, Haru whispered, “But then I’d have to let you go.”  
  
“Just for a second. Please, Noir?” He swallowed. _If they’re charmed, use charm…_ “For me?”  
  
Haru hummed, but with one lingering squeeze, she backed away enough to reach her mask. Milady burst to life, and with a wave of her fan, she doused Haru in pale, restorative sparks…  
  
…Before she swooped right back in to hug Akira more.  
  
“What are we supposed to cure this with?” Morgana groaned. Ann tugged Akira’s arm a little closer, almost nestling his arm between two very soft lumps. With a yowl, Morgana added, “There must be something!”  
  
Akira struggled to twist his head toward Futaba again. She was sitting beside him, her knees tucked up to her chin and her shoulders shaking. Bare minutes ago she had been smiling, and now she was crying!? _Are they only happy when they’re touching me?_  
  
“Hey—Oracle, it’s going to be okay. I’m sorry Noir moved you, but you’re still precious to me,” The words tumbled out in a rush, but at least all of them were true. Futaba lifted her head a little. “I am proud of you, I’m proud of you every day. I just need a little bit more of your help. I can’t do this without you.”  
  
While Futaba seemed to be thinking over Akira’s words, he felt Makoto yank on his arm, just a touch too hard. He glanced her way for a second. It looked like she was trying to make him hug her? With just one arm?! Seriously, if Futaba didn’t get to the bottom of this, the Phantom Thieves were going to tear their leader apart!  
  
“…What do you need?” Futaba decided at last.  
  
“How long until this wears off?” Akira asked.  
  
On the bright side, Futaba answered immediately. On the not-so-bright side, she said, “Between four hours and two weeks.”  
  
“ _Weeks_?!” Morgana whined. “Lady Ann, no!”  
  
The worry finally hit home. If the Phantom Thieves were incapacitated for _two weeks_ , their entire schedule would be ruined, and their enemies would win and they’d never see true justice in the world—and to top it all off, would they be like this in the real world? How was Akira supposed to do _anything_ with his friends clinging to him like this?!  
  
“We need to leave!” Akira ordered the group, but only Morgana obeyed. He summoned his own Persona, and with a swish of Zorro’s sword, Akira knew what he was going to do. The turn of his soul felt second-nature as Akira changed his Persona to Atropos.  
  
A second later, a huge gale enveloped the Phantom Thieves. Everyone had to release Akira to shield themselves—Ryuji gripped a railroad strut to keep from blowing away—while Akira remained unaffected, standing and sprinting toward the end of the tunnel. Morgana dropped the wind spell and ran after him, leaping up to shift into the Monavan.  
  
Akira’s head felt like it was running steps for a rocket launch. Step one, freed from his friends, check. Step two, into the driver’s seat, check. He wished Makoto could drive so that he could try and manage the others in the back seat, but in her current state, she probably couldn’t keep her eyes on the road. Step three, seat belt, check.  
  
Step four was definitely _not_ Yusuke flinging open the driver’s door and dropping himself into Akira’s lap. At least Yusuke’s ‘charmed’ expression didn’t weird Akira out. It had a lot in common with his typical look of wonder and joy when he encountered works of art. But it had never been so _close_ before.  
  
“Majestic,” Yusuke crooned. “I truly believe I could be enraptured with any part of you for an extended duration, but your face is simply unparalleled. A living David—or perhaps Adonis?”  
  
Akira had no idea what to actually say to that, but his brain provided, “I’m a Dali most days and you know it.”  
  
Yusuke chuckled, and Akira felt an impulse to smile back when the van rocked some more and Haru tried to follow Yusuke’s path. The confines of the Monavan meant she couldn’t just haul him out, so she announced herself with a ladylike “Excuse me!” and stepped up to try and share Akira’s lap. Then Futaba made it into the back seat and hurled her arms over Akira’s shoulders, unfortunately choking him just a tad.  
  
“Will you—let me drive?!” Akira grunted, struggling to disentangle first Futaba and then Haru but Haru was _not budging_ , so he shoveled Yusuke into the shotgun seat—except Haru took that as an invitation to fully occupy Akira’s lap, and there was Ann popping up between the console, intent on grabbing one of Akira’s arms again—  
  
Akira flailed forward and punched the van’s horn. A feline screech echoed in the tunnels and finally brought the mass of movement to a halt.  
  
“If you don’t let me drive this car, Shadows are going to catch up to us and I am going to _let_ them eat me!” Akira threatened.   
  
A chorus of protests rose: “What? No! Why!?”  
  
“Either you all need to let go of me so we can go back to the real world, or I’m going to fling myself into a monster's mouth.”  
  
“You can’t do that,” Haru reasoned, “We’d kill the Shadow before it got more than a bite!”  
  
“Shadows don’t go down in one hit at this depth,” Morgana countered from his car-form.  
  
“I think I understand,” Makoto said. “You don’t want us touching you right now because of the threat to our safety. If we leave Mementos, then everything will be fine?”  
  
“Right,” Akira said, not specifying that he also hoped the status effect would end in the real world. “So everyone needs to get in the back seat. _Now_.”  
  
The team finally listened to enough logic to get in the van—extracting Haru took a lot of effort, and Akira noted her angry glare with a pinch of concern—except five people wanted to share the three-person middle row. Akira only solved that problem with a sharp declaration: “Queen, back seat, with Oracle!” Listening to Futaba start to cry broke his heart, but at least Akira knew he could apologize to her, and Makoto didn’t appear as… addled as the others.  
  
“Hey, why does Fox have shotgun?!” Ryuji exclaimed. “That ain’t fair!”  
  
“Because Fox will keep his hands to himself—won’t he?” Akira turned to Yusuke for confirmation.  
  
“I am capable of abstaining,” Yusuke answered, and he made a picture frame with his hands, focused on Akira.  
  
“Now, if I feel _anyone_ touch me while I’m driving, I am kicking them out of the van!” Akira turned his most serious face, copied from Iwai, to the middle row, consisting of Haru, Ryuji, and Ann. “Understood?”  
  
They grumbled their agreement. Akira put Morgana into drive and sped off into the tunnels.  
  
The van was silent now, except for soft sobs from Futaba. Akira finally had time to think. This charm effect scared him. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if the Shadow had successfully become the center of their charmed cognition. And it was really bringing out the worst in his friends. They were impulsive, jealous, and harder to reason with. It really seemed like the only thing that made them happy was being pressed up against Akira with as much of their body as they could manage. But he only had so much body, and six of them to juggle. What was he supposed to—

Something brushed through his hair. Something finger-like.   
  
Akira slammed on the brakes, making Morgana meow angrily. “Who touched me?”  
  
“Panther!” Ryuji immediately tattled.  
  
“I’m sorry, Joker, your hair is just so soft!” Ann cried. “It won’t happen again, promise!”  
  
Ugh, this sucked. Akira didn’t want to do this, but they were barely five minutes into driving and not close enough to an exit point where he could just let it slide. “Okay. Out.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Get out of the van. You’re walking.”  
  
“Seriously?! I thought you were kidding!” she protested.  
  
“Nope. Out.”  
  
In the rear view, Akira saw Haru stretch her battle axe across the row and use its handle to open the passenger door.  
  
“Joker, you can’t be this cruel to Panther,” Morgana said quietly, but Akira patted the dashboard, hoping Morgana would trust him.  
  
In another minute, Ann left the van. Ryuji slid the door shut. Akira pressed on the gas. Morgana drove.   
  
The relief of one less rival in the van could not compensate for the horror of realizing that Akira was not joking about kicking people out of the Monavan. Even Futaba had stopped crying in the back.

He drove for another minute or so, long enough for Akira to consider possible next-steps in his strategy, before he stopped the van again, rolling down the driver’s window as an invitation. The silence continued as Akira watched a very distant blotch of red and pink grow closer and closer in the side mirror. Finally, Ann reached the window. She wouldn’t look Akira in the eye.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she started. “Everyone’s right, I just want attention, and I don’t care how I get it, and I’m an airhead skank and I mess everything up—”  
  
“Panther, wait, stop,” Akira interrupted. “That's not true. And that’s not why I kicked you out of the car.”  
  
“Then why?”  
  
He shifted so he could lay his hand on Ann’s cheek. “You’re a precious friend and amazing teammate. You earn attention because you’re incredible and you work hard. But you are _very_ distracting, and I can’t afford distractions for the next… twenty minutes.”  
  
Ann still looked upset, so Akira tried to sweeten the pot. “If you ride with Queen and Oracle, you can have the first hug when we’re back in the real world?”  
  
She finally turned her face to the palm of Akira’s hand and pressed a small kiss there. He couldn't feel it through his glove, but goosebumps broke out on Akira’s skin anyway. “Promise?” she asked.  
  
“I promise.”  
  
Then Ann let him go, and she clambered back into the van, into the furthest row. Akira turned his attention to the other three in touching distance: Yusuke, Haru, and Ryuji. “That was a warning shot,” he said. “Next one to touch me walks the whole way.”  
  
They nodded, so Akira put his eyes back on the road and drove.  
  
Three more floors. Two more floors. His team was handling themselves admirably, but Akira could see Haru gripping her battle axe like she wanted to snap it in half. One more floor. Just about everyone was getting twitchier, including Akira. Finally, a rest area. Akira leapt out of the Monavan and took off running in order to give himself time to open the MetaNav and hit ‘return’ before his friends caught up with him.  
  
“ _You have returned to the real world. Welcome back!_ ”  
  
The depths of Mementos swapped for a bright and normal day in Shibuya, with the sun starting to set, and… six fellow teenagers _charging_ after him.  
  
Well. Akira saw no escape, so he had to at least keep his promise. He darted and dodged just subtly enough to let Ann crash into him, as he wrapped her up and buried his face in her pale, fluffy hair.


	2. Morgana does a magnificent job explaining the situation

The dog-pile that followed only ended when a police officer came by. “Excuse me, you can’t be roughhousing here in public. Clear the area, please.”  
  
Akira tried to peek between all the shoulders and elbows. The officer seemed pretty neutral, pushing a bicycle along with a bored expression. He reminded Akira of the truancy officers who hassled him and Ryuji after their first visit to Kamoshida’s Palace. “Sorry about this. It’s my birthday, so they pulled a prank—”  
  
“I don’t care about the reason. Just move along.”  
  
It took most of Akira’s strength to get up to a sitting position. “C’mon, why don’t we go back to Leblanc?” he coaxed. “With blankets, and coffee, and an actual bed to cuddle on?”  
  
 _But what the hell am I going to tell Sojiro?_  
  
People seemed agreeable to the idea of Leblanc, so Akira climbed his way back to standing. Makoto had hold on one of his hands, and Futaba the other. Then Ryuji got the bright idea to hop on Akira’s back, joyful and carefree but _really goddamn heavy_...  
  
“Ryuji-kun, unhand him, if you don’t mind,” Haru said in that same terrifying-calm tone as before.  
  
“Pfsh, or what?”  
  
“Or I’ll tear your legs off.”  
  
“No one is—tearing anything!” Akira grunted, tilting up to try and put Ryuji’s feet back on the ground. “I can hold hands with two people only! Makoto and Futaba first, and I’ll keep track of when it’s time to switch!”  
  
As four voices protested that idea, Akira finally caught sight of Morgana strutting into view. “They sure are difficult to handle,” he commented.  
  
“Why can’t you help!?”  
  
“It truly seems that the only opinion that matters to them is yours. Perhaps I should make my own way back to Leblanc so you don’t have to worry about carrying me _and_ them?”  
  
“That makes sense,” Akira conceded. “We’ll meet you there. Now, everyone, let’s go!”  
  
And the ungainly caravan began to roll. Akira took a few steps forward, Makoto and Futaba keeping pace, while Haru used intimidation tactics to let herself stay closest to Akira, leaving Ann and Ryuji to trail behind. They reached the top of the escalator into the Shibuya station when Akira realized he was missing someone.  
  
“Yusuke!?” Akria twisted to look over his shoulder. The artist lay face-down on the ground, splayed like a murder victim. “Everyone, wait here!”  
  
Akira disentangled himself from his other friends to retreat back to Yusuke. They probably followed him like ducklings behind a mother, but who cared. He knelt down and rubbed Yusuke’s shoulder for his attention. He lifted his face and looked at Akira with relief. “You came back.”  
  
“I didn’t go that far,” Akira pointed out. “Can you follow me?”  
  
Yusuke looked like he was puzzling the answer to that question. “My physical body is technically able… but when you said only two could hold your hands, I couldn’t envision a future where my soul is satisfied with our proximity. You were simply swarmed by too many others and I lost the will to fight.”  
  
 _Futaba cries, Ann hates herself, Haru wants to murder people, Yusuke despairs…_ Akira tried not to think of the list as an insurmountable obstacle and more like a set of data. Conditions to manage. He could do it. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he could. “Come on, Yusuke. If we can get to Leblanc, I won’t have to move, and I can make sure you’re… never unsatisfied with our proximity again.”  
  
Some modicum of hope appeared back on Yusuke’s face. Akira really had to find a way to motivate his team beyond promising them access to his body. He lowered his hand down, Yusuke took it, and he stood up.  
  
And he didn’t let go of Akira’s hand.  
  
“Okay… Um, Haru?” Akira offered his other hand to her. She took it instantly, and then Akira looked to Futaba. “Maybe you can go on my back?”  
  
Ryuji snapped immediately, “This is bullshit, how come she gets a ride and I don’t!?”  
  
 _Ryuji wants fairness…_ Akira took a deep breath to try and focus. “Because she weighs like, thirty kilos. I can’t carry you all the way to Leblanc.”  
  
He still didn’t look satisfied with that, but Futaba took the offer instantly, and her light frame didn’t unbalance him too badly. Ann started to frown a little, and Makoto looked… anxious? Akira couldn’t categorize her response just yet.   
  
“We can trade once we get off the train?” Akira suggested to Ryuji, who grumbled but accepted the offer.  
  
Finally, the Thieves started moving again. They crossed the turnstile, made it to the platform, and got on a train, where Akira held onto a pole and all of his friends held onto him. Once they arrived on the other platform, another fifteen minute debate took place as Ryuji claimed his “rightful” spot as Akira’s new backpack, Makoto latched onto a free hand like a life preserver, Ann again enveloped Akira’s arm, and Yusuke tried to meld with the pavement. Haru got very quiet—uncomfortably quiet—and Akira could only motivate her to escort a weepy Futaba with _more_ bribes of physical contact. Just about every slug on the side of the road moved faster than them.  
  
Rounding the corner to Leblanc’s alley, Akira felt like he had dragged his body through six of the nine circles of Hell. He instantly spotted the black cat sitting near the café door, licking one paw daintily. Of course Morgana had beaten him here. When he approached, Morgana trotted closer and looked Akira over.   
  
“They’re completely unwilling to budge, aren’t they?”  
  
Akira just nodded.  
  
“Well, you have one more trial ahead of you. Leblanc has customers in it.”  
  
“Wait, what?”  
  
“That elderly couple that orders one coffee each and watches the news until practically closing time.”  
  
Akira pressed his lips together and tried to think. If it was just Sojiro, he might have been able to rush up to the attic and not answer any questions. But customers would have questions about this odd parade, and they’d ask Sojiro, who would grill Akira. And the last thing Sojiro needed was anything suspicious happening around Leblanc…  
  
“What’s your infiltration plan?” Morgana asked.  
  
“...Honesty,” Akira decided. He shrugged Ryuji off his back and then leaned against the alley wall, the Thieves immediately swarming him, leaving him practically stuck against the bricks. “Futaba?”  
  
“Yeah?” Her voice sounded a little weak, but in spite of the crushing hug surrounding him, Akira reached out to pat her on the head.  
  
“Could you use your phone to call Boss, and let me speak to him?” He ruffled her hair.   
  
Futaba nodded, her cheeks still a little splotchy, but her mood improved with attention from Akira. She whipped out her phone and speed-dialed Sojiro, who picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Akira wants to talk,” she said, and she immediately pressed her phone against the side of Akira’s face. Coincidentally, that let her snuggle in on his side.  
  
“ _Why doesn’t he call me himself?_ ” Sojiro said, apparently not knowing Futaba already passed the phone along.  
  
“Hey, I’m outside and I need your help,” Akira said. “It’s quick, but weird.”  
  
On the other end of the phone, he heard Sojiro sigh, but he hung up, and a few seconds later, the door to Leblanc jingled. Sojiro looked down the alley at Akira covered in snuggly teenagers and froze.  
  
“What is going on here?” he asked, halfway between bewildered and reproachful.  
  
Where to start? Sojiro only had a vague understanding of how Phantom Thief work functioned in the first place. “It’s a… cognitive alteration?” Akira started. “Pretty harmless, just inconvenient—”  
  
“You know that you can't act like this in _public_! And—Futaba! Futaba, let go of him!”  
  
Futaba responded with a whine, pressing her face into Akira’s chest like Sojiro was an alarm clock and Akira was her bed.  
  
“We think it’s a ‘charmed’ effect. They’re charmed. By me,” Akira added a few more details.  
  
“Charmed? You put a love spell on them?! On _Futaba_?!”  
  
“Not on purpose!” Akira insisted.  
  
“This is distressing to watch. Let me help him.” Morgana commented. He strutted forward and started to wind himself around Sojiro’s legs, calling out as loud as he could. “Heeey! Sojiro Sakuraaaa! Look at meeee!”  
  
“Not now, cat,” Sojiro tried to step around Morgana, who persisted.  
  
“Sojirooo! I want your undivided attentioooon! My dear Lady Ann won’t acknowledge meee! No one else will eitheeeer! I’m in deep distress!”  
  
Sojiro growled a little bit—“I can’t think straight with you meowing like that!”—and bent down to pick Morgana up. Morgana immediately started nuzzling up toward Sojiro’s shoulder, slipping out of his attempts to keep a grip on him. “But I’m not through with you, kid. You can’t just do whatever you want in a decent society!”  
  
“Sojirooo Sakuraaa! Pay attentioooon! I’m delivering a brilliant metaphor to youuu!” Morgana kept caterwauling. His paws reached around Sojiro’s neck. At that same moment, Makoto’s arms slipped over Akira’s shoulders, hugging him tight.  
  
Understanding dawned on Sojiro’s face. “Oh,” he said quietly. “You’re catnip, aren’t you? And they’re the cats?”  
  
“It’s nothing perverted,” Akira kept explaining. “But any time I leave them alone, they get upset. I’m hoping I can ride it out, but Leblanc has customers.”  
  
With Morgana’s demonstration over, he wriggled out of Sojiro’s arms and jumped to the ground, strutting away as if he hadn’t been crying for attention. Sojiro rubbed the back of his neck. “I appreciate that you at least understand how bad this looks…” He reached into his pocket and found a ring of keys, holding them out to Akira. “Hole up at my place until closing. That way you won’t make a scene.”  
  
“I owe you my life,” Akira vowed.  
  
Sojiro chuckled ruefully. “If you’re still alive after this, I’ll hold you to that.”

* * *

The Sakura residence had a little living room with a sofa, which became Akira’s sacrificial slab the moment they arrived there. With time to focus and think, Akira started learning some things.  
  
Ryuji really liked hugging Akira from behind. It was a big, rough, bear hug, exciting and warm and secure. Akira had felt a few hugs like this before, mostly with just one arm flung over his shoulders. It had something rough and blunt to it, but there was kindness too, alongside a deep happiness to just _be_ around someone who mattered to him. Ryuji's joy was simple and uncomplicated.  
  
Haru preferred the front. When she didn’t perceive threats from her friends, Haru’s deep embrace was gentle, easy, and patient, and full of the aroma of roses alongside the scent of healthy soil. She hugged like the cafe that she wanted to open: a peaceful sanctuary where people can find calm and leave refreshed. That love came through loud and clear.  
  
Ann wanted cuddles. Lots and lots of them. She tucked herself under Akira’s arm and wrapped her arms around his waist, sighing and relaxing and letting herself unwind. Her model’s grace came naturally to her, but when she had her ideal cuddle, she let her entire facade fall. Akira found her core just as beautiful as her shell.  
  
After some mild experimentation, Akira discovered that Futaba was fine so long as she could hold Akira’s hand. Sure, she could snuggle in like the rest of them, but her mind spun with too many thoughts and too much intelligence for her to truly crave smothering, full-body contact the way the others did. She always wanted to keep one of Akira's hands in hers, like a lifeline, while the other hand scrolled the internet or texted.  
  
Makoto could also satisfy herself with being nearby instead of inside Akira’s personal bubble, but she had a far greater desire for his attention. She liked eye contact best. She had beautiful eyes herself, and the weight of her focus felt intimate and powerful. Sometimes she had things to say, but not always. She let comfortable silence fill the space between them, and it was so easy to feel at peace next to Makoto, relying on her and trusting her.  
  
And true to form, Yusuke’s interest in Akira was eclectically indiscriminate. Hand, arm, shoulder, foot, knee, leg, torso, face, he studied Akira deeply, especially the places that Akira never thought twice about. At first, Akira felt a little bit dissected, but the longer it went on, the more he started to feel like a diamond in the hands of a jeweler, with his every individual facet examined and appreciated.  
  
The only problem was, it was all _too much_.  
  
Akira could only reasonably satisfy three, _sometimes_ four of his friends at a time. There were always at least two of them upset with him: demanding attention, cursing their friends, or just giving up and succumbing to the dark belief that Akira didn’t love them and never would.  
  
“Ann, don’t think of yourself like that, it’s not true!” Akira pleaded from the pile of bodies. Makoto had rotated into Ann’s cuddle spot. It would be at least another fifteen minutes until Haru had drank in enough hug-energy to not get scary. Ryuji was making do with Akira’s other side while Yusuke got up-close-and-personal with the back of Akira’s neck. Futaba was having trouble holding Akira’s hand around Ryuji’s body, but she was making do… for now.  
  
Ann sat at Akira’s feet, arms wrapped around herself. “It has to be true. There’s something wrong with me, you hate me, everyone secretly hates me… I can’t do anything but look pretty…”  
  
Akira gritted his teeth. Yusuke and Ann became inconsolable when Akira couldn’t pay attention to them, but where Yusuke bemoaned the state of the universe and the futile desires of a human soul, Ann thought the problem came from her self and that Akira was rejecting her because he hated her, and not because he was one man covered in five other clingy, cuddly friends.  
  
“Haru, could you make coffee?” Akira requested. “For you and I?”  
  
Haru raised her head and gave Akira a pleading look. “I don’t want a coffee. Could I just stay here, please?”  
  
“I really want one. Let me taste how you make it? It will only take a few minutes.”  
  
Haru reached up for one more lingering hug—earning a complaint from Yusuke as she hid some of Akira’s skin—before she unfurled from the cuddle pile and stepped toward the kitchen. Akira nodded to Ann, who leapt at the chance to be close to Akira again. “Oh, that feels so much better already…”  
  
Akira let out a sigh. “You realize you only feel bad because of the charm effect, right?”  
  
“Mm, sorta.”  
  
His eyebrows shot above his glasses. “Sorta?” Depending on what Ann meant, Akira might have bigger problems than cognitively addled teammates.  
  
“I mean, everything feels the same,” Ann described. “But it’s way more intense! Normally, things are easier when you’re around. But it feels like ‘around’ just isn’t enough anymore. I need to touch you. And when I’m not touching you, everything normal feels terrible.”  
  
Akira was a little scared of that. He had a feeling a lot of his friends depended on him for strength. But on the flip side, he relied on them the exact same way. He helped others with their problems, but everything Akira had to face was easier when he knew he wasn’t alone. “I guess we just have to wait for the intensity to wear off.”  
  
“I suppose so. But I like being honest like this.”  
  
“Honest? With what?”  
  
“How I feel about you.”  
  
 _What._ Only his carefully practiced cool kept Akira’s heart from stopping. “You… have feelings for me?”  
  
“Hm?” Ann tilted her head up to look at him, crystal-clear eyes through her lashes. “I mean, I love you a lot. It’s just so hard to show it. I can tell there’s something in me making it easier.”  
  
“Liquid courage?” Akira suggested, just to keep his mind from reeling.  
  
Ann giggled. “Something like that. But I think we all love you. It’s never been so easy to show it.”  
  
Akira took a deep breath and let it out. For Ann to generalize the 'love' and speak for her friends, she probably wasn't speaking romantically. On his side, Makoto traced one of her hands up to his shoulder. And Yusuke’s fingers danced along the nape of his neck, while Futaba extended and folded Akira’s own fingers, like she was fidgeting with him. Ryuji seemed settled like a loyal and loving dog.  
  
They loved him.  
  
And in spite of himself, Akira knew he had been craving something like this.  
  
He gave Ann a small smile, and leaned closer to her head to press a small kiss against her forehead. It made her laugh again.  
  
And a coffee cup hit the floor. It didn’t shatter, thank god, but deep, rich coffee splattered across Sojiro’s rug.  
  
“Ann-chan,” Haru said quietly. “Please return my spot to me.”  
  
“Wait, that’s going to stain!” Akira yelped. He moved Ann aside, and then extricated himself from Makoto, Futaba, and Yusuke, and tried to run for the kitchen. If he found towels, or maybe a cleaning spray—  
  
Before Akira could get a stride going, something struck him from behind, sprawling him out on the floor. He groaned at the pain and realized that Ryuji had tackled him. And once Ryuji had him down for the count, everyone else converged on him, ready to take what they desired out of him.  
  
“ _Can you all love me a little less!?_ ”


	3. Sleepover 2.0: Revolution in cuddling for the modern age

When Sojiro got home, Akira wouldn’t stop apologizing for the coffee stain. He made a tactical error, he should have been more careful, he’ll pay for the cleaner, he’ll pay to replace the rug if he has to… But as Akira delivered these promises still draped in his friends, Sojiro was more forgiving than he needed to be.  
  
“I have a spare futon in the closet,” he said. “Linens too. And if you can get it off her bed, Futaba’s mattress can go with you. At this rate, I doubt anyone will be willing to spend the night in their own bed.”  
  
Persuading the other Thieves to help take over the supplies was a task and a half too, but eventually, Akira got his clumsy duckling squad of friends to add two more mattresses, three sets of sheets, another comforter, and six pillows to Leblanc’s attic. Akira would have to loan out his own shirts and sweats as pajamas, which covered most everyone. Some of it was a bit tight on the girls, but Akira did an admirable job not thinking about that, in his defense. Perhaps related, Morgana chose to spend the night at Sojiro’s.  
  
With the pillow-nest built, Akira turned to his DVD player and tossed in something random. Looked like some X-Folders episodes he’d already seen before. And with something basic and distracting on in the background, Akira submitted himself to the whims of his friends once more.  
  
Lying down in a place where people were meant to lie down had some advantages. Akira reclined, and he let his friends take segments of him. Makoto put his head in her lap where he could look up at her. Ryuji sat next, leaving one hand curled around Akira’s shoulders. Haru folded her hands on Akira’s stomach like it was her own, a gentle and reassuring pressure. Futaba the upper legs, though she focused on holding his hand, and Yusuke knelt at his feet, where he could see all of Akira spread before him. Ann tucked herself around people’s extended legs so she could be close enough for Akira to rub her back.  
  
“Hang on, why doesn’t Mully believe Sculder?” Ryuji voiced. “They got a ton of evidence right there!”  
  
“The evidence is inadmissible as presented,” Makoto said.   
  
“And the show wouldn’t be cool if Mully just instantly believed everything,” Futaba added.  
  
“Of course it’d still be cool! They’d waste less time investigating and spend more time kicking monster ass!”

“I think the investigations are important,” Haru said. “It gives you time to see that these communities need help!”  
  
“The monster designs are grotesquely fascinating regardless,” Yusuke added.  
  
“They look like Shadows!” Ann laughed.  
  
For a while, things felt normal. Akira closed his eyes to let his friends’ chatter wash through him, opening only a few times when he felt Makoto touch his cheek, nudging for his attention. This whole charmed thing kind of forced the team to have a vacation. Maybe they’d all laugh about this in the morning.  
  
The DVD ran out of episodes around when Morgana would tell Akira to go to bed, so that meant it was bedtime. “Alright… how are we going to do this?”  
  
“Do what?” Ryuji questioned.  
  
“Sleep.”

A moment of silence passed through the group. Instantly, Akira realized this was going to go poorly.

Ann shifted closer to Akira’s side. Then, with an intense glare, Haru scared her neighbors away to claim the other side. Makoto made do, lying sideways next to Akira’s head. Futaba lay down on top of him, assuming that if he could piggy-back her, he could use her as a blanket, but that factually wasn’t true. Even Morgana’s weight could be crushing when he laid on the wrong ribs, and Futaba covered _all_ his ribs.   
  
“The hell—leave some for the rest of us!” Ryuji demanded, like Akira was an appetizer plate getting devoured by the table. “Ann, you been there for hours! Nudge over!”   
  
“Nudge over yourself!” Ann retorted. “I was here first!”  
  
“Are you for real with this!? That’s not fair!”  
  
Yusuke gave only a few words warning—”My deepest apologies”—before he bodily heaved Ann away from Akria and laid his long self in the place instead.  
  
While Ann shrieked her anger, Futaba cracked an eye open. “Ugh, Inari is here?” and while she tried to turn around, she elbowed Akira’s stomach, which meant he could do nothing as Ryuji got the bright idea to drag Haru out of her prime position. He managed to pull her away, but he couldn’t slip in next to Akira before Haru twisted his arm and pinned him to the futon.

“If you don't return my spot to me, I will use your skull as a plant pot!” Haru threatened while Ryuji yelped in pain.  
  
Akira gasped, “Makoto… stop them!” But rather than follow orders, Makoto left her spot at Akira’s head and took the vacated side for herself. Akira watched Haru notice this betrayal, drop Ryuji, and reach for Makoto.  
  
 _No!_  
  
Akira rolled away from Makoto, depositing Futaba on top of Yusuke, and sprung to his feet. One more dash brought him to the other side of the room, where he jumped onto his desk chair and then _leapt_ for one of the attic cross-beams. He just barely had time to pull his foot up and avoided someone—looked like Makoto—swiping at his leg.  
  
“Come down from there!” Makoto pleaded. “You could fall and hurt yourself! Or get a splinter that gets infected, or catch a nail and need tetanus boosters, or what if you’re stuck up there and we can’t get you down at all?!”

Akira blinked, his final piece of data slotting into place. _Makoto gets anxious._ Well, that was good for the future, but he had to fix this first. “Nope. Everyone has to say nice things about everyone else first.”   
  
“What are you talking about?” Ann asked.  
  
“I can’t let you forget that you’re friends just because you’re fighting over me,” Akira told them.  
  
“I don’t care about them, I care about you!” Haru protested.  
  
“Of course you care about them,” Akira corrected. “And I’m not coming down until you prove it to each other.”  
  
“Dude, whatever!” Ryuji rolled his eyes and then pointed around the circle. “Ann’s hot, Yusuke’s weird, Makoto’s bossy, Futaba’s a geek, and Haru’s scary. There, I’m done.”  
  
Akira slapped his hand over his eyes while _someone_ smacked Ryuji on the shoulder. “Take this seriously,” Akira begged. “I love all of you, so if you love me… please try. Try to be nice.”  
  
For a minute, Akira waited. Futaba’s eyes started getting misty and Yusuke fell to his knees.  
  
“Futaba-chan, I… never saw your Palace,” Haru started. “And since I’ve known you, it’s hard to imagine you having one. I think that shows how much you’ve grown past the distortions that hurt you in the past. You’re a strong person.”  
  
Through her sniffles, Futaba replied, “It’s cuz these guys stole my heart…”  
  
“You kinda stole your own heart,” Ryuji said. “We didn’t get any Treasure out of you, at least.”  
  
“He’s right. It was all you,” Akira chimed in. This was what he was looking for. “Anyone else?”  
  
“I think Futaba is stylish,” Ann added. “All my clothes are trendy things out of magazines or from shoots, so it’s always someone else telling me how to be fashionable. But you created your own style, just for you, and it looks great.”  
  
“Okay, and maybe it’s cheap say hacking, but your hacks are freakin’ insane,” Ryuji said. “You’re the smartest programmer in all of Tokyo and you’re like, fifteen. You’re a genius.”  
  
“I wanted to say hacking,” Yusuke complained.  
  
“Too bad. Say somethin’ else.”  
  
Yusuke looked lost for a moment, before he said, “Masterpieces aren’t born from talent alone. They are laborious and grueling trials that test your stamina and spirit. Ryuji acknowledged your talent, but talented people languish in obscurity without dedication like yours. It’s commendable.”  
  
Tears streamed down Futaba's face now, but Akira had a feeling it wasn’t due to the charm effect. Makoto looked away from Akira long enough to notice, and drew her into a hug. When her gaze returned to Akira, he nodded at her. _Your turn._  
  
“You… teach me something new every day,” Makoto said. “About the way the internet works, but also about games and TV shows, and… fun things I’ve missed out on by being stuck in a book. I’m always happy to learn from you, Futaba.”  
  
Futaba clung tightly to Makoto, and Akira smiled. “Okay. Who’s next?”

Collectively, they decided that Makoto had incredible leadership skills. They admired how cool she was around adults, that she knew how to study “like a boss,” and she had noble plans for the future, and they understood and appreciated how hard it must have been for her to ask the Thieves for help.

Haru showed her innate kindness when she rescued Morgana, she could look on the bright side of anything, coaxing vegetables to grow on the Shujin roof meant she had a magnificent green thumb, her moves in battle were so graceful, and her fight for her freedom inspired others.

Speaking of inspiration, everyone agreed that Yusuke created brilliant paintings, but seeing him find inspiration in strange places made the world feel more wonderful. He had a strong sense of right and wrong and he showed gallant manners to everyone he met. And even in the competitive field of art, Yusuke never measured his skills against others and followed his own truth.

Getting Yusuke to shut up about what a “sublime muse” Ann made took some effort, but they called her a true friend, resilient in the face of danger, tricksy when she needed to be, and undaunted by challenges.

And Ryuji kicked so much ass in the Metaverse, always standing bravely against their enemies, doing whatever it took to see the team through, and he was honest with what he knew and didn’t know.  
  
“We’d miss you, if you weren’t here,” Futaba finished. “The team isn’t the same without you.”  
  
And after hours spent snapping at his friends for real and imaginary threats to his connection to Akira, Ryuji finally cracked with a stupid-looking half-smile. “Feels good to _have_ a team, after… yeah. Thanks.”  
  
In spite of all the raw emotions flowing below, Makoto had kept her attention on Akira in the rafters. “Can you come down now, please?”  
  
“Nope. I’m moving the goalposts,” Akira said with a smile.  
  
“For real?! You can’t just do that!” Ryuji snapped, his warm mood already fading.  
  
“This won’t be hard, promise.” Even as Akira relished in his friends complimenting each other, he had used his time hanging out on a wooden beam to figure out a new plan. “I’m staying up here until you find a sleeping position that makes everyone happy. If you do it while I’m down there, you’ll rip me apart.”  
  
“We won’t!” Futaba promised.  
  
“We might…” Haru corrected.  
  
“C’mon. Sooner you start, the sooner you’re done, and the sooner I come down.”  
  
Yusuke responded by melting down into a puddle of existential melancholy. Makoto and Ann ignored the dramatics, grabbed his arms, and dragged him across the attic floor to the mattress-blanket-pillow pile. Showing her touted leadership skills, Makoto said, “Akira is a little smaller than Yusuke, but he could be a placeholder…”  
  
Akira intended to survey their progress from his perch, but even he was getting sleepy. His eyes kept sliding shut as his friends tried to figure out how they were all going to cuddle Akira through the night. Frankly, that sounded like a really nice way to sleep. He wondered if his friends would indulge a request for a cuddle party after the charm wore off.  
  
“We’re ready!” Ann called up for Akira, startling him a little. But once he had his feet on the ground, they showed him what they found out: each of them would get a little piece of Akira to use as a pillow: Ryuji and Haru at the legs, Futaba and Ann at his stomach, and Makoto and Yusuke at his shoulders.  
  
Served Akira just fine. With all the body heat cuddled against him, he didn’t even need a blanket, and he slept deeply through the night.


	4. You think I'll let you live this down? Have you met me?

No one had budged by morning. When Akira lifted his head, he could see Futaba and Makoto were awake while everyone else slept.  
  
“Any chance the charm has worn off?” Akira asked, already knowing and dreading the answer.  
  
Futaba grinned at him and lightly danced her fingers across his abdomen, making him twitch. “Nope!”  
  
“Will you let me go pee?”  
  
Makoto hesitated, then looked embarrassed. “I mean, that’s reasonable… you need privacy for that. Of course. That’s not even a question.”  
  
In spite of some subconscious reservations at letting Akira go, Makoto and Futaba helped extract him from the cuddle pile. They followed him downstairs, but not into the bathroom. Makoto claimed she wanted to get some breakfast started.  
  
For five blissful minutes, Akira was totally alone. He peed, washed his hands, washed his face, and tugged his hair around a bit. Then he stared at his face in the mirror, realizing that he had probably received a year’s worth of physical touch in twelve hours. In spite of how much he loved his friends, the sensation of relief that came from no one touching him proved it was starting to overload.  
  
_I can’t quit now. They need me._  
  
When Akira opened the door, six expectant faces were staring at him. Only the well-honed instincts of a Phantom Thief kept him from flinching.  
  
_...They could do better at meeting me halfway._  
  
He started up trying to cook breakfast, since Makoto actually didn’t make progress. Some rice went in the cooker, some eggs in a skillet, coffee orders all around. Sojiro came by to check on them and watched Akira try to cook with at least three of his friends hanging off of him at any given moment, and the rest of them clouding around him and getting in the way.  
  
“I could use some help, Boss?” Akira entreated.  
  
Sojiro just chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry. It’s just so absurd. And you’re doing remarkably well, given the circumstances.”  
  
Still, things were a bit easier for that morning. Cathartic bonding from the night before meant that everyone stopped taking their distress out on each other when Akira had to rotate them through whose turn it was for cuddles. They gave Haru a box of disposable chopsticks to snap when she was off rotation, and Akira could track her stress levels by the frequent clicks of splintering bamboo. Ryuji developed the habit of pacing in front of the attic stairs, like he thought some other Akira-stealing interloper would show up if he let his guard down. Ann hugged the pillow from Akira’s bed whenever she couldn’t hug him. Futaba still cried whenever she separated from Akira, but she had a more positive attitude about it, like the tears running down her cheeks were from allergies. And even though Yusuke still peeled out on the floor, he accepted pencil, paper, and encouragement that perhaps sketches he made during his despair could help inspire paintings about the emotion later.  
  
Makoto’s anxiety proved most troublesome to manage. But when Akira asked her if she was okay, she’d say “I’m fine, but are _you_ fine? Are you going to trip? Or choke? Do you need water or food?” So he’d just pat her on the head and encourage her to muddle through.  
  
Akira himself muddled. He had some books to read, though he had been hoping to save those for riding the subway. He did a few chores around his room and crafted a single lock pick before his desk chair gave out under the weight of all the people trying to hug him. On top of that, he felt bad about the wasted time. He could have been at a part-time job. Or helping Dr. Takemi. Or scouting vending machines for sodas to bring back health and stamina, the team always needed those.  
  
But, who could need him more than his team? So he tried not to let the frustration get to him as the hours ticked by.  
  
Around mid-afternoon, Morgana returned. He caught Akira in the middle of a mostly-intact cuddle pile, with most everyone in their favorite positions. Yusuke had either not slept or eaten well and passed out a half hour ago, so no one had to fight him for a piece of Akira. “I take it the charm still in effect?” Morgana asked.  
  
“Basically,” Akira told him. “You missed a lot.”  
  
“I think I’m fine with how much I missed. A man suffers a peculiar wound when he sees his beloved chase another, so I had to compose myself.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“How are you holding up?”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You don’t sound convincing,” Morgana told him.  
  
Makoto reached out a hand to Akira’s face. “I actually agree with Morgana. Are you sure you’re alright?”  
  
Akira hesitated, which was long enough for Makoto to move her hand to Akira’s forehead, and for Haru to notice the conversation.  
  
“Wait, is Akira-kun unwell?” she asked, sitting up a little straighter to look at him.  
  
“Dammit, are we all gonna get sick?” Ryuji wondered. He didn’t seem afraid of the prospect though, keeping his arms seat-belt-tight around Akira’s middle.  
  
“Low HP! What do we have for healing items?” Futaba asked, playing with Akira’s thumb.  
  
“It’s not healing items,” Akira said. To the side, the commotion started to rouse Yusuke, which was the last thing Akira needed: another worried voice in the conversation.  
  
“Consider that this might be a marathon,” Morgana advised. “If you think you’re running out of energy, you need to take time now to ensure you don’t burn out later.”  
  
Feeling seven pairs of eyes on him, Akira took a deep breath. “I love you all. I really do. And this has been… nice. But I’m getting stir-crazy. It's too much touching.”  
  
The humans looked shocked, while Morgana sympathetically arched his back. “I know what you mean. When I've been brushed for too long, it stops feeling relaxing and adds stress instead.”  
  
“But it really hurts when we let you go!” Futaba protested.  
  
“I know. Don't worry about it If the charm breaks tonight, I’ll probably be fine. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“If the charm doesn’t break?” Morgana asked.  
  
Akira didn’t know what to say, and the silence weighed heavily.  
  
“We’d… survive, right?” Ann said. “I mean, we’d feel like absolute trash for a bit, but Akira will come back.”  
  
“What would you do if you left?” Makoto asked.  
  
Akira knew the answer to this one. The craving had bubbled up a little bit ago. “Bathhouse. I can refresh my skin and get ready for another twenty-four hours of heavy petting.”  
  
“Ew,” Futaba said.  
  
“What’s gross about it?” Yusuke questioned. “I expect he’d be very clean after a bath.”  
  
“Never mind, Inari. But how long will you be gone for?”  
  
“He’ll take anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour,” Morgana reported. “Depends on if the bath is medicated.”  
  
“I’ll be gone thirty minutes,” Akira promised. “Rinse, soak, back.”  
  
“Can’tcha do twenty?” Ryuji asked.  
  
“If we are capable of enduring thirty, then he should be allowed the full thirty,” Yusuke reasoned.  
  
“We will need to consider our own cleanliness at some point,” Haru said.  
  
“Akira first,” Makoto decided. “You can go for thirty minutes. We’ll be okay.”  
  
He still hesitated, caressing Makoto’s cheek. “Are you sure?”  
  
She smiled. “You’ll be the one I’m worried about. You shouldn’t worry about us.”  
  
“Easy for you to say,” Ryuji said with a pout.  
  
“Besides, Morgana can look out for us, right?” Makoto glanced at their final member.  
  
“I will,” Morgana said.  
  
“It’s decided then!” Makoto said with a smile. “Akira, see you in thirty minutes.”

* * *

  
  
“How long has he been gone?” Makoto asked Morgana.  
  
Morgana raised one cat eyebrow at her. “It couldn’t have been longer than two minutes. I doubt he’s even arrived at the bathhouse yet.”  
  
“Two minutes? Are you sure? It might have been three—or possibly four, or five? It feels more like five.” Makoto had herself tucked onto the unused cafe booth, nervously tapping a finger against her knee. “There’s nothing that could have happened to him on the way to the bathhouse, right? Will he text us once he makes it there safely?”  
  
“Try and take some deep breaths,” Morgana advised. “These aren’t rational fears. You know that, right?”  
  
“I—I do, I know I do, but—he’s _precious_ , I can’t believe we let him out of our sight, what if—”  
  
“He’s going to be fine!” Morgana cut in. “It’s not helpful to entertain ideas otherwise.”  
  
Makoto pressed her palms against her ears like she could shove the anxiety back inside her brain. She had separated herself from the ‘Misery Pile,’ consisting of Yusuke, Ann, and Futaba who existed in a depressed miasma.  
  
“Why did we tell him he could go,” Ann said quietly. “How was I so stupid, why would he come back to someone like me!?”  
  
“Perhaps this is the truth of the human condition? That all sources of joy and adoration will depart when you most desperately want them to stay? How can any beauty compensate against this agony?” Yusuke babbled.  
  
“I was _not_ talking to you! Just leave me alone!”  
  
But Ann didn’t move, and neither did Yusuke, and neither did Futaba, who had nothing to add to the conversation but probably wasn’t enjoying being around it.  
  
Morgana just shook his head and looked to Ryuji, pacing in front of the six-foot line that constituted the top of Leblanc’s stairs. “You know, if you hug him the instant you see him, you’ll knock him down he stairs and break his neck,” Morgana advised.  
  
“I know! I just want to be ready! What do you take me for?!” Ryuji blustered.  
  
Morgana bit his tongue and looked elsewhere. The final Phantom Thief awaiting the return of their leader had been supplied with a cutting board and a stock of vegetables. She would spend the time cubing potatoes and carrots into curry-sized chunks. Mostly she was just bisecting them with her heavy knife. Rhythmic _thunks_ echoed in the attic.  
  
Morgana had nothing better to do than observe his teammates’ behavior and speculate about the status effect’s purpose. If this is how it manifested, the ‘charm’ spell could be potent in combat. The proximity urge intrigued Morgana the most; if one of the Phantom Thieves had been compelled to stay as close to the Shadow as possible, then it would have created a meat shield against other attacks. And then based on the behavior of Haru and Ryuji, perhaps the Shadow could have forced them to inflict friendly fire by pitting charmed individuals against each other.  
  
“Morgana?”  
  
“Yes, Makoto?”  
  
“How long has he been gone now?”  
  
“Five minutes.”  
  
“That can’t be right. He should be back by now. It feels like it’s been thirty minutes.”  
  
“You have to trust me. Akira left a few minutes ago. He’s probably just started with the bath.”  
  
“I don’t know how I’m going to stomach when it’s my turn!” Ann interjected. “I don’t want to go at all! But if I don’t get a bath I’m going to be _disgusting_ and Akira is going to hate me more than he does!”  
  
Morgana took a deep breath. “Lady Ann, he doesn’t hate you.”  
  
“He left me!”  
  
“He’ll return in twenty-five minutes! You’re all going to be fine!”  
  
_THUNK._ Haru’s knife buried itself in the cutting board. “Whoops,” she said with a strained sort of cheer. “Too strong!”  
  
“Why didn’t we set a timer or something?!” Ryuji complained. “I can’t take not knowing how long he’s been gone!”  
  
“Because you all would watch it obsessively and drive yourselves insane,” Morgana explained.  
  
“We’re goin’ insane _now_! And how can we trust that you know how long he’s been gone?!”  
  
“A truly superior thief knows how to keep track of time.”  
  
“Superior thief, my ass!”  
  
Makoto interrupted again, “How long has it been now?”  
  
Morgana sighed. “Six minutes.”  
  
Self-aware enough to know she had already express bemusement over the time, Makoto bit her tongue. But it still didn’t feel right to her.  
  
“Perhaps we have died, and this is our hell?” Yusuke theorized.  
  
“You aren’t dead.”  
  
“I feel as though I am dead. My spirit is unmoored and disoriented.”  
  
“That’s probably hunger.”  
  
From the corner, Haru threw a chunk of carrot at Yusuke, forceful and over-handed. It struck his head and rolled under Akira’s bed. “Ow,” he said.  
  
“Just in case you were hungry!” Haru told him. Her sing-song voice was wearing thin.  
  
“Morgana, how long has it—”  
  
“Seven minutes!” Morgana snapped at her. “I will tell you when it reaches ten, so stop asking!”  
  
“…Right. Thank you, Morgana.”

The time progressed basically the same way for the next twenty minutes: Ryuji stalking the floor, Haru expressing violence in whatever non-violent way she could, Makoto struggling to contain paranoia, Ann tearing out her pigtails and barrettes because “What’s even the point anymore,” Yusuke voicing any gloom-filled thought that crossed his mind, and Futaba curling herself into a progressively tighter ball.  
  
“Morgana?” Makoto begged in a thin voice.  
  
“Nearly time,” Morgana fudged his answer. “You know that even if he’s gone for thirty-one minutes, that doesn’t mean he’s dead, right?”  
  
“What else is it supposed to mean?! If he’s not back in thirty seconds we need to go rescue him!” Makoto sat bolt upright. “We need to file a missing person’s report. Right now. He must have been abducted. The city is so dangerous these days.”  
  
“Hang on—Makoto, be rational!”  
  
_CHUNK._ Haru swung her knife down point-first, nearly stabbing through Sojiro’s cutting board. “Skip the police,” she said, her sweetness completely washed away. “I’ll hunt them down myself.”  
  
“I’m down,” Ryuji said, punching one hand into the other. “You wanna lead the way?”  
  
“Hang on! No one is leaving this café!” Morgana declared. “Don’t go on the warpath just because he’s a minute late!”  
  
“Let’s hold a vote! In favor of Akira’s immediate rescue?” Makoto raised her hand, and so did Haru and Ryuji. “In favor of abandoning him to a terrible fate?” The other three didn’t move. “Three yeas, three abstentions. The motion passes. Let’s go.”  
  
“NO! The abstentions are no’s! And I vote no! We implemented a rule where decisions must be unanimous!” Morgana tried to add a hiss to his voice, anything that would scare them off. “Will you listen to yourselves?!”  
  
At that moment, swift as a shadow, a young man with familiar frizzy hair dashed up the stairs and into the room, carrying a white plastic bag with him. He dropped the bag to the middle of the floor—beverage bottles landed on potato chips with a _crunch_ —and then he flung his arms open.  
  
No one needed telling twice. Like a magnetic field catching shards of metal, Akira pulled his friends in close until they enveloped him in a six-way group hug. Everyone breathed an enormous sigh of relief.  
  
“You smell like persimmons!” Haru exclaimed, her light and delicate tone restored.  
  
“Thought you’d like it,” Akira said. “And I bought dinner from the convenience store.”  
  
While everyone cooed at Akira’s thoughtfulness, Morgana shook his head and settled back down. Hopefully, the Phantom Thieves would be capable of keeping their cool for longer than thirty minutes if anything incapacitated their leader.

* * *

  
  
It had been Akira’s shortest bathhouse soak to date, but combining it with an invigorating sprint to the convenience store where he had social contact with strangers who kept their distance worked wonders. He came back to a hug so tight and from so many sources that his ribs were probably going to be bruised for a few days, but it was worth it. Sure, his friends had their cognition magically blitzed by a demon swimming in the collective unconscious. Yes, Morgana had some concerning stories about how his absence made half of them too depressed to move and half of them want to burn down Shibuya. But after even a short break, Akira felt recharged, hopeful, and ready to welcome anything they threw at him.  
  
They threw a _lot_.  
  
Tight hugs. Fingers through his hair. Cuddles with no regard for balance. Hands getting closer to intimate zones than they had been before. Whispered “sorrys” made Akira confident no one was putting moves on him, and it was all a by-product of too many hands and not enough surface area.  
  
They wanted all of him. They loved all of him.  
  
Akira loved all of them back.  
  
Once his return soothed them back to the new ‘baseline,’ they wanted their favorite positions again, and Akira let them hold him where they wanted in a new cuddle pile. He even picked up another movie at the convenience store, some old classic with broad appeal. Just like with the X-Folders, Akira didn’t pay a lick of attention to the movie, just drinking in the feeling. If the charm lasted for two weeks, they would all be in _serious_ trouble, but they weren’t in trouble yet. They were just hanging out. Having a sleepover. Loving him unconditionally. Anchoring that love into his body through their touch.  
  
_I would die for each and every one of you._ Given how poorly they reacted to him being gone for a few minutes, Akira wasn’t going to mention dying. He just felt it.  
  
Bedtime even went smoothly, since they already knew how to all cuddle up and fall asleep on Akira. Morgan curled up in an unoccupied space near Haru, and with distant city noises for a lullaby, Akira fell asleep again.  
  
He woke to a cat’s paw on his forehead.  
  
“Psst,” Morgana hissed to him. “Be very quiet. But I think the charm broke.”  
  
Akira lifted his head and looked around. The cuddle pile was… looser. Yusuke’s head had dropped from Akira’s shoulder in the night. Ann rolled over and hugged a pillow. Futaba was on her stomach. And even those who still used Akira’s body as a pillow, their clinging hands had slipped.  
  
“Do you want to wake them?” Morgana whispered.  
  
Akira shook his head. The cuddle pile felt like a low-burning candle to him, sure to flicker and die soon but still casting a warm glow he wanted to protect as long as he could. So Morgana nodded, swished his tail, and plodded to the windowsill so he could sit on the roof and enjoy the sunrise.  
  
In a few minutes, he felt Makoto stir. She rolled a little closer to Akira, giving him a little hug across his shoulders, before she froze. She opened her eyes. Then she sat up and stared down at Akira, a deep red flush creeping onto her face.  
  
“Oh no…” she said. “All of that… that happened, didn’t it?”  
  
Akira gave her a thumbs up.  
  
“I don’t suppose we can… pretend it never happened and never speak of it again?”  
  
Akira smiled and shook his head while Makoto buried her face in her hands.  
  
“I’m so sorry. I was—my behavior was—”  
  
“Cute?” Akira supplied.  
  
“Don’t tease me over this! It’s embarrassing enough that we couldn’t resist the charm, but everything that happened after—”  
  
“Makoto, it’s _okay_. I don’t think less of you or anyone on the team for what happened. We’re safe, and we got through this.”  
  
“Still, you shouldn’t have had to put up with us in that state. You must have been so frustrated with us.”  
  
“A few times, sure. But overall… I loved it.” Akira reached out for one of Makoto’s hands and held it while he looked at her. “It felt nice, to feel how you all care.”  
  
The already scarlet blush burned deeper, and she couldn’t stand looking at him more. “I suppose, if you’re sure…”  
  
Akira wanted to say something else to tease her when Ryuji stretched, stood, and plodded downstairs in a half-asleep haze, probably looking for Leblanc’s bathroom. Makoto watched him leave, and then laughed to herself.  
  
“I guess it’s really over,” she said.  
  
Ann’s sleepy voice asked, “What’s over?” as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Akira rolled on his side to give her a smile. She stared at him blankly for a moment, the understanding dawned. She reached out to put a hand on Akira’s stomach, then take it away, put it back, take away. “It’s over! The charm is over!”  
  
“My days of leading a harem are over,” Akira said with a sigh, earning light slaps from Ann and Makoto alike.  
  
“That’s not funny! Were you getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of us acting like that? Is that it?” Ann’s rising panic roused others in the cuddle pile.  
  
“I was getting regular enjoyment!” Akira corrected. “I’ve never had friends love me so much.”  
  
Ann looked like she wanted to keep up the argument, but couldn’t decide how. Ryuji returned to the top of the stairs, yawning, but froze when he saw the others waking up. “Oh, shit! The charm!”  
  
“Yes, ‘the charm’ indeed,” Makoto said, her voice still a little high and strained, like whenever her fear of the dark started to creep up. Futaba responded by leaping up from the mattress and sprinting past Ryuji. Her feet thundered on the stairs until they heard the bathroom door open and slam shut.  
  
“Futaba is back to her barricading ways,” Yusuke commented beside Akira, who nodded. Extracting Futaba might be a pain, but he’d figure it out later.  
  
Meanwhile, Haru moved to her knees, but instead of standing, she bowed in Ryuji’s direction. “I’m so sorry for my behavior, Ryuji-kun!”  
  
“Wait, shouldn’t you be saying sorry to Akira?” Ryuji asked, bewildered.  
  
“I will, but I behaved reprehensibly toward you too! I threatened you, and I pinned you to the floor! I never want to desire something so much that I harm my friends in the process!”  
  
“You want to talk about rep’hensible behavior or whatever, I was actin’ like a spoiled brat! And I was such a shithead about everything!”  
  
“It’s the charm’s fault,” Akira reminded them. He sat up to remind them that he forgave them and they should forgive each other, but before he could get too far, a pair of arms slid around his middle again. He looked to the side and saw Yusuke was hugging him.  
  
“Yusuke, are you still affected?” Makoto asked with concern.  
  
“I am no longer suffering from a compulsion to do this, if that’s what you’re asking,” Yusuke said.  
  
“Then why are you hugging him?” Ann pressed.  
  
Yusuke answered, with the same tone he used to express disbelief that people would buy mineral water when there’s free water in the sink. “He proved over the last two days that he will accept physical affection from us when we want it.”  
  
“We wanted it because we were charmed!” Ann argued.  
  
“Is that how you experienced it?” Yusuke sounded confused. “For me, it felt like my usual, often-felt but easily ignored urge to touch Akira had been transformed into an all-consuming desire. Perhaps it was different for the rest of you.”  
  
Looking around at their faces, and remembering what Ann had told him before, Akira could tell it was not different for them at all. He smiled a bit to himself and patted Yusuke’s shoulder. “Hey. C’mere.”  
  
With a little coaxing, Akira brought Yusuke into a full hug, tight and warm and satisfying. Akira noticed how nice it felt to be able to focus on a single person’s hug too. The full-body soup of hugging had fantastic appeal, but so did a special moment with a single person. Yusuke hugged back, tight and secure, but unlike the charm, the moment passed and Yusuke pulled back with a calm smile. The other four stared at Akira and Yusuke a little strangely, and in the midst of their confusion, Akira could recognize just a little tinge of envy.  
  
“I’m happy to cuddle all of you, whenever,” Akira said. “Just give me some warning when you want six-on-one?”  
  
Haru laughed, still a little embarrassed. “Well, speaking of six, we should help Futaba-chan out of the bathroom, shouldn’t we?”  
  
“Oh yeah, she’s a former shut-in! The whole charmed thing probably freaked her out, now that it's over,” Ryuji commented.  
  
Makoto stood up and dusted her knees off. “Well, she’s in good company. But who else are we supposed to be vulnerable around, if not our leader?”  
  
“We’ll coax her out with curry and let her know that everything’s okay!” Ann said.  
  
“...Speaking of curry, Haru struck me on the head with a thrown carrot yesterday. Where did that roll off to? It’d be a shame to waste it, and I was just thinking of breakfast—”  
  
“No dusty day-old carrots for you! C’mon!” Ryuji reached out for Yusuke’s arm and heaved him up.  
  
With a smile of his own, Akira stood up and followed his team down, enjoying the déjà vu of having a conversation with Futaba from the other side of a locked door. She’d figure out soon enough that there was no reason to be embarrassed with Akira—and even if she was still embarrassed, she was just in the same boat as everyone else.  
  
For just a moment, he pressed his hand over his heart. Maybe it was his imagination, but the memory of the last two days felt like it had a physical warmth to it. He’d treasure that warmth for the rest of his life.


End file.
